


A Black Stripe Analogy

by Lost_in_abyss



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dark, Doctor/Patient, Evak AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-27 00:14:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15012482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_in_abyss/pseuds/Lost_in_abyss
Summary: They barely look at each other more than two seconds. But within that short span of time he realises something. This man is not to be messed with. There is clearly menace itched on his head. He tries to shrug it off casually. Two can play this game.“Hai, I am Even-” he says pointing to the golden plated name board that is embossed with the name Dr Even Bech næsheim, MD in psychiatry, MBBS,“how may I help you?”





	A Black Stripe Analogy

The first time it happens, he is barely thirteen and his mustache is just visible like a trace of line. He is a bundle of chaos and hot headed, as if nothing could stop him from conquering the world. He truly feels invincible. It’s this day that changes his life but yet when he ponders upon it there’s nothing different to mark it memorable. It’s just a normal Sunday evening of 2012 and it’s his birthday.

Honestly he doesn’t remember if they celebrated it vastly. He remember having dinner with his parents. Their laughter, the easy banter and mocking of how their little ‘ _Issy_ ’ is growing up as an adult. Whether he blushed in embarrassment or smirked he doesn’t remember. He vaguely remember cutting the cake but it’s almost after the night settles in and the day nears to the end, that his life changes or it takes tiny steps to the change.

  
There in that orange sheath draped table had one of the most daring yet dangerous thing in the world- A half emptied bottle of whiskey. His dad might have got drunk from it after everybody left. It’s a ritual in the family. A peg for his dad after dinner. Nobody questions it or rather nobody cares. It’s one of the ‘adult’ things. A taboo only opened for the elders.

  
So it’s almost with a caution that he steps forward towards it. Tiptoeing not to wake others, not to feel the brunt of his family and he counts… One. Two. Three. Four. And he is there near the table, almost within reach of the precious liquor. And then he takes a deep breath. Nods his head to himself and downs the first shot.  
It burns his throat as if it is mocking him for daring to drink. As if reprimanding him. But now he is enthralled. The pure sense of victory hanging in the air. He downs the next one and the next. After that he loses count. Its only when he feels a little light headed does he stop.

  
And then he walks back to his room...

taking longer steps. A sense of giddiness wafting in his head. But soon he ends up in bathroom. When the morning comes he feels like a sharp needle has been sewn threw his head and he claims to be sick not leaving the bed until the evening.  
And nobody questions, and with a sudden resolute he understands.           

_Nobody knows or nobody bothers._  
                              Xxxxxxxxxxx

  
It’s the summer of 2015, when the next important change happens in his life. Except this time he is not alone. His parents are sitting in either sides of him as if trapping him from finding an escape. He chuckles. Because he knows that if he doesn’t want to be stuck in here, there’s nothing stopping him. But he isn’t fighting it. Honestly his parents deserve this chance.

  
Because he failed in his first year . And the reason why it doesn’t become a life changing event is that he simply doesn’t care. He hails from a rich family and he knows his dad could support him and his future child if need be. Not that he wants to squander the money. But he very well knows that his dad could get him a job or get him to some university with money. That his parents could do.  
The place currently he seated is a tiny apartment in the North West side of Grunerløkka. There’s no one but a guard and his family sitting in the hall way and the truth is he haven’t seen such a clustered apartment anywhere in his entirety. That makes him wonder why his parents would take such strenuous effort to take him into counselling when the very place reeks of alcohol and smoke. He doesn’t comment. His role is to hang his head in shame for being a failure in life. So he does that. If he naps in between, no one needs to know.

  
By the time they are ushered in, there’s almost a silence that engulfs them. No one wants to break it. So instead he inspects the room. It’s dark as it’s covered with thick yellow curtains as if it’s smothered by the light outside. Books are sprawled in the floor shabbily. A black arm coffeer is placed in front of a table and few coffeers on the opposite side. On one side he could see a tiny diner pushed into the farthest corner. It is covered with leftovers and bottles of sprite. He even sees an ashtray underneath the table but he knows better than to speak about it.  
By the time, the owner of the house comes around and sits himself unceremoniously, he’s past oblivion, day dreaming about the match that is about to happen tomorrow. His mother shakes him out of the stupor as if anchoring him towards the reality and he meets the eyes of the owner.  
He is even more unimpressed or he is disappointed to realise that the man he portrayed in his head- someone in late fifties with grey hair spouting out of his bald head and sunken eyes with years of experience, was not the man that sits in front. Instead here is one who would barely be past mid-twenties, his head crowned with hair as if it hasn’t seen knife for years and a eyes too vibrant and oh equally unimpressed.

  
They barely look at each other more than two seconds. But within that short span of time he realises something. This man is not to be messed with. There is clearly menace itched on his head. He tries to shrug it off casually. Two can play this game.

  
“Hai, I am Even-” he says pointing to the golden plated name board that is embossed with the name Dr Even Bech næsheim, MD in psychiatry, MBBS,

  
“how may I help you?”

  
He doesn’t seems keen to pay attention to it except when his mother cries and wipes it away on the end of her saree sobbing that nothing could stop him from taking alcohol. “His dad even beat him and starved him for a day, he’s unfazed” his mother sobs.

  
He knows he shouldn’t be happy about this but what can he do. He truly might be heartless like what his mother shouts when she is angry at him. When he looks up, he sees Even inspecting him as if he is a work of art. If he didn’t know any better he would say he was being admired or maybe his mind is playing tricks on him again.

  
He jumps a little when he hears Even’s voice addressing them –“Do you want a tour of the house? That’s where the section take place.”

  
He simply shakes his head signalling a no. He almost thinks that the doctor would force him but he doesn’t say a word instead leads his parents inside.  
When they come back neither of them says a word instead firmly shakes the hand and they part to separate ways.  
                Xxxxxxxxxxx       

The thing about being an alcoholic is that there’s only so much he could remember at time. Like sometimes it’s a memory that is engraved into his heart that seems so significant or sometimes it’s the way to his home. Sometimes it’s where the bathroom is or the nearest sink that’s vitally important. But then there are times like this where even to stand in his legs seems to be a task that he has to memorise twice. He twists and turns until he gives up.

  
He decides not to stand. After all if gravity wants him to suck him to the ground. So be it. He is not fighting the Mother Nature.  
When the footsteps approaches near, he barely looks up. He knows how he would look. Shrunk into a ball with his feet and hands drawn up like a shell, his curly hairs in disarray looking like hay sticks and pale lips quivering to the dreary cold in the night.

  
“Isak, what are you doing here?” he hears the all too familiar voice hovering above him. He sounds nonchalant but he very well could detect a concern laced in the voice.

  
He could only shrink further in response and hold to the legs of Even. He hears a sigh from above and then he is being hoisted up, dragged into Even’s apartment, he meets the arm coffeer with a rough thud and opens his eyes. The same old arm coffeer. Same old coffeers lined up. Its 2016, almost an year later that he had stepped into this shabby apartment, yet there is no change in the room except now the windows are draped with green curtains partly due to his own fault as one time he had thrown the yellow curtains off in anger.

  
Like he said he is not in the mood to remember past things and finds it even more difficult to latch onto his coherency. So it’s not a surprise that he doesn’t hear the rant of Even only catching the last phrase-  
“Isak, go back home”

  
He rolls his eyes. If he knew the way he would have.

  
“The party was IN your house” he hears Even’s voice not at all amused.

  
“So?” he questions Even.

  
“So, nothing. Go back home. If you want a session come in the morning.”

  
“Are you hiding your mistress?” he retorts.

  
“Do you care if I am?”

  
“Why should I?” Isak asks purely irked.

  
“ _Why indeed_ …’’ if Even says anything more he doesn’t hear. He is already asleep and there’s not anything but silence that lulls him into a dreamless sleep.  
When he wakes up, there’s no one in the house. He knows this because if there is Even, he could hear the sound of TV probably tuned to some news channel and some music playing in the back ground. Also the aroma of tea in the air. But today none of it greets him which means Even probably might have took him to bed and left the apartment abruptly.

  
On the lamp post near the bed side, he sees a glass of water and a tablet. He drinks it. Its cold confirming the suspicion Even fleeing his own house because of him.

  
Only much later along with his watch he sees it- a key, a spare to the apartment and a note –“Next time, open it with the key and don’t wait”. There is no addressee, no greetings or goodbye. Just like Even. Just like them. Every time. Who cares about politeness? They have never been. They never will be.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Sunday, 2012

  
He curses himself for the hundredth time. He knows there is no back out. His parents are standing downstairs expecting his sudden run with tails under his legs. He is almost tempted too. Counselling be damned. But he had promised his mom that he will attend it and call him alcoholic, a scoundrel … anything but he is not the one to break promises.

 

  
Almost as if the God had aligned the perfect meeting, the door opens. Even stands there. This time he looks less like a doctor and more like a human. He is wearing a blue t-shirt with a printed words “DAMN” and a track suit pants. There are stubbles in his face and he notices a silver hair poking out of his bushy unruly hair. He might have been staring in for too long as the next words almost startles him.  
“Are you coming in or what?”

  
He enters and almost wishes that there would be some changes in the house. But instead is met with even more wrappers and leftovers, more books on the floor. He almost has an urge to clean the house but instead refrains from it.

  
Even just beckons him inside and he follows.

  
If the hall surprises him with dirt, he is even more surprised with the minimal furniture that the rest of the households.  
On one side of the room he sees a make shift table that could be converted to an ironing stand or a writing pad whatever you want, a single chair. A small shelf with books stacked upon and a plant that almost seems lifeless in the window sill. The room leads to a narrow hall which ends up in a bed room if someone can call that. Because there is only bed, no bed stand and a quilt that hasn’t washed for some times. He notices a dress bin and a small cupboard probably that contained his clothes.

  
“Finished with your assessment?” Even asks with a mirth.

  
“Are you sure you are a doctor?” he asks back. He wasn’t backing out now.

  
“Does it matter?” Even asks sitting near the window sill.

  
Isak thinks for a moment and answers-“no’’. Honestly it doesn’t matter. It’s not as if it could stop him from getting drunk.

  
He knows that what he does is a courageous step cause instead of taking a seat in the chair he walks over to the window sill and sit opposite to Even. It’s cramped since both of them are 6 foot tall. Even might have been a little bit more tall. He doesn’t know but his tall and lanky legs brushes his counsellor legs as he sits. If the posture amuses Even, he doesn’t say it. Instead he looks out through the window and continues to speak –“Tell me about you”

  
He wants to laugh-“seriously?” he asks instead.

  
“What?”

  
“Are you going to start up with a cliché ‘tell me about yourself?”

  
“Why not?”

  
“I knew you weren’t a doctor.”

  
“Have you been to a psychiatrist before?”

  
“No” he shakes his head.

  
“Then how come you call it cliché?”

  
“Movies” he says gesturing his hand dismissively.

  
“Oh... So what, I should predict about you instead of asking you?” Even asks frustrated.

  
“I don’t know. Aren’t you the counsellor? Also… I don’t need your help. Just so to make it clear. Clearly I can stand in my legs and I can walk through even if I am drunk. It’s not as if my father won’t drink. So that’s enough to ease my guilt trip”  
Even doesn’t say anything. Instead he continues to stare back through the window. When the silence prolongs, he takes out a cigar and smokes it.

  
“Seriously?!!” Isak can’t hold the irony in it.

  
“What?” Even questions clearly exhausted with the banter.

  
“You are smoking right in front of a person who wants a rehabilitation from smoking and alcohol?”

  
Even just shrugs earning a cheerless laugh from Isak.

  
“Didn’t you make the intentions clear?

Then why are you here?”

  
“You are giving up already?” Isak couldn’t stop the disbelief seeping in his sound.

  
“I never started to give up” Even says taking a drag still not looking at him.

  
“So I should go and say to my parents that the doctor didn’t even care to look at me and started smoking right in front of my eyes”.

  
“I smoke because I want to”.  
“Oh! then what makes you so different from me?”

  
_“I know when to stop”_  
Isak walks out in haste and nobody stops him.

  
Xxxxxxxxxxx

  
It is on the darkest days of June that he comes back again. This time there’s no protest but a despair. Even doesn’t question what it is. There is time. But he questions the most important one – about himself.

  
It’s a rainy day and the sky has already darkened warning with the impending rain. He feels so helpless looking at it and fidgeting from time to time.

  
Even just sits in his bedroom reading his newspaper. Isak knows what he is trying to do. He is asking him to come inside to his personal space, where there are no more secrets or mysteries. But he can’t. He just can’t. He might have been standing too long because next thing he knows a, huge hands is holding and ushering him inside the room

.  
He can’t help but notice that despite being cold, Even’s hands are warm and he leans into it for support.

  
“I thought a gentle push is what you needed” Even says as he gets seated opposite Isak in the bed. There’s almost a smile in his voice. So unnatural.

  
“ _So, now we are playing this game now? Be polite to the drunkard_?”

  
Even shakes his head and amusement “you know I can smile and be polite? Or did you think it’s foreign to me or something?”

  
“Or something” he mutters that earns a chuckle from Even.

  
“You know this time it’s you who came to me, no one forced you to attend here and it’s you who decided to open up. No need to be impolite”

  
“Who said it’s me who wanted to come here?”

  
Even doesn’t say anything, just raises his brows as if he knows exactly what he is playing. Get him angry enough to drive him outside the house. But he knows this time it won’t happen. The walls that build around him is crumbling down and he can’t do anything but stare at it breaking.

  
“What happened now?” Even asks instead.

  
He could only sigh-“I fucked up real bad, I started using drugs.”

Xxxxxxxxxxx

  
April 15, 2017  
Isak had returned from Mumbai after visiting his sister. His sister was an engineer in one of the country’s best company. A complete contrary to him. Or completely complacent with the family. Isak was the black sheep in his family. A night mare that his family and kin would want to forget.

  
He rarely used to go for marriages. Socialising was not a part of his agenda. But then whenever he attends one, he could hear the whispers- “that’s Tarjei’s younger son, the one who used drugs and tried to jump the storeyed?”

  
“Did he now?”

  
“Apparently yes! He broke his leg and one good arm. You had to see his mother. She was hysteric. You can’t disown your own blood nah?” there’s faux sympathy as she narrates the story.

  
“Prodigal son”- in the end that’s the title he gets. Nobody asks him what happened. Nobody dares to. Only he knows it.  
It’s another day like today two years back that he sits in the lanai in one of his friend’s flat and smokes. He already feels himself detached from the body when he hears the raging ring from the phone. He usually doesn’t pick up but for some reason he decides to. And it’s his sister

.  
“Hey Issy, whatcha doing?” that’s his sister-Lea. Always casual and caring. There’s always a concern in her voice when she speaks. He hates that.

  
“Nothing” he says getting off the lanai and walking inside to the bedroom.

  
“So guess who’s coming to Oslo for concert? His sister asks with a dramatic pause and answers herself enthusiastically –“Cold play!”  
He smiles cause he remembers that. His innocent childhood where he and Lea sits staring at the TV and writing down the song names so that his sister could download it from the café’s.

  
He smiles at that memory- “so are you going?” he asks his sister.

  
“Issy” he calls exasperated –“ask the question”

  
He could only grunt in response. Maybe the smoke was finally getting into the head as he is unable to think anything.

  
“Fine” his sister continues – “I booked a ticket for you”.

  
“Ahaa” why was he such a heartless person?

  
Whatever peace lingering is broken in the next moment as a shout is heard from the outside- “Bro, are you gonna smoke the joint or not?”

  
There’s silence. The silence that seems to suffocate both of them and it’s the next words from his sister that breaks his heart.

>   
>  “ _You fucking did not! You fucking did not Brat! You promised us! You promised me that you won’t use it. You promised me that you won’t hang out with them. What’s so good about it when others spits at you in disgust when they see you. Do you feel accomplished in your life? Huh what the fuck that stupid counsellor doing for you? Or are you even seeing him, you worthless piece of shit?”_
> 
>  

  
“Is that why you called? To rub it in, sister – to show how perfect your family is with your husband and the porches’ flat and tickets to concerts?”

  
He knows he should stop it. He knows he is hurting his sister- the only one who genuinely cares about him. But words are spiralling out of control – “or did you finally realise that the fake sympathy that you show for me is not working out, is that it?” he spews out agitated.

  
Silence.

  
“Fuck you! You know, hy don’t you do the world a favour? Why don’t you just hang yourself? Maybe finally our parents could sleep in peace. Maybe finally we don’t have to hang our head in shame every time we hear your name…!” he says and cuts the call, shattering his world.

  
His coherent mind would have understood that his sister had said that out of his own hurt and there’s no ill wish behind it but his brain filled with the weed is not the one to be trusted.

  
And what happens in the next few moments is a picture perfect memory that he would never forget. He walks out of the room and again he is counting the steps. Five steps of solid mind. There is a new found resolve that he feels and wonders if he had the same resolve in his other aspects, would he have changed his life. But there is no room for regrets. He leans to the lanai and it’s all fucking cliché.  
Because he hears the song ‘fix you’ in the background and he is not sure it’s him or his friend who played the song. One moment he stares out through the balcony and next moment he jumps.

  
‘ _When you try your best but you don't succeed_  
_When you get what you want but not what you need_  
_When you feel so tired but you can't sleep_  
_Stuck in reverse_  
_When the tears come streaming down your face_  
_'Cause you lose something you can't replace_  
_When you love someone but it goes to waste_  
_What could it be worse?_  
_Lights will guide you home_  
_And ignite your bones_  
_And I will try to fix you’_  
Xxxxxxxxxxxx

  
He wakes up three days after in the hospital bed and funny enough he sees Even sitting on the bed side with both of his legs propped up in the bed as if it’s the most natural thing a person could do.

  
_Cruel world. Unkind. Even death doesn’t do any favour for him_.

  
“Here I thought you will slip to coma and we have to nurse you until you turn seventy” Even says not even looking up from the book he is reading.

  
“Ughh, why are you here?” Isak asks. He feels worn out and his throat is dry probably from not using for some time.

  
“I am here for the sessions.”

  
“Sessions?”

  
“Yeah it’s a Monday and you are supposed to meet me for counselling. Since you decided you won’t come, I decided I will do” he says with a serious expression.

  
“And how were you planning to give sessions to a coma patient?”

  
“I don’t care about you, I care about your parent’s money” that’s when the façade crumbles and Even laughs. He can’t help but laugh at the situation. World, you are so cruel.

  
“I honestly thought I lost you” Even continues with a rare vulnerability that he has ever seen.

  
“Were you sad?”

“Shouldn’t I be?”

  
“Should you be?” he asks more to himself but is interrupted with Even’s soothing voice-“ _I know that when people tells you not to give up, it isn’t easy. Neither giving up is an easy solution. It’s a brave attempt if you are ready to live with the guilt that ou are breaking so many people’s trust just to find an escape from the misery. But very rarely life gives you a second chance. It’s not because world is unkind. It’s because fate is giving you a choice – a choice to be who you are or what you are. Either of decision is yours to make. In the end its you who lives. Don’t be a puppet to others word. Haven’t we established that being emotional is not our forte_?” there’s no malice or sympathy when he speaks. Even. The word that utters from his mouth more than anything.

  
“I want to change” he mumbles sleepily and doesn’t wait for the response. He is lulled to sleep with a soothing hand in his hair brushing him to oblivion.

  
That’s how he used the drug and jumped from his friend’s apartment. Like how he said. Nobody cares. Nobody bothers.

  
Xxxxxxxxxxx

  
December, 2017

  
“I thought it was you” Even says with a smile.

  
“Where were you?” he continues questioning and Isak smiles back. Lately he has been able to take control of himself. He has restricted his drinking habit and completely stopped using drugs. Sometimes when it becomes too much, Even pours him a drink and they both sit in the terrace and drink it looking up at the sky. Sometimes they share a joint. Just one. Even is his anchor pushing him through the haze and he doesn’t feel enough words to show the gratitude.  
But neither of them speaks about it.

  
“I was in Mumbai visiting my sister’s Baby girl. She grew up so much!” he shows raising his hand animatedly. Even just nods and chuckles.

 

“The bag?” he questions.

  
“I came straight from airport. I could use a bath” he says not looking up and throws his bag unceremoniously on the arm coffeer aiming straight out to the bathroom.

  
As he steps out of the shower, he sees a pair of pants and a green shirt neatly folded in the bed. He wears it and combs his hair. Using a whiff of the perfume he steps out to see Even already dressed in a black pant and a white shirt leaning on the door waiiting for him.

  
“We are leaving” he says and then they are moving out.

  
Bergen in stark contrast to other places is a land of heritage. Surrounded by forts and monuments, it stood out for a then luxurious life full of abundance and happiness. But the funny thing was that the city never canged. There are still the forts and galleries and still the mind of the people are rusted.

  
Upon time, new shops have opened up. Other than that the city never vacillated. Not that he was complaining. The dwellers in here were accustomed to this stability, it’s a comfort to realise that everything remains the way they are.

  
But even more surprising is the villages. There are villages in the outskirts of Grunerløkka where electricity is still a foreign concept. Where still they scorn upon the city dwellers as if they are invading the space. People of naïve and selflessness. It’s to those villages that they were traveling.

  
A remote area after a diversion from the country side lead to a tar less dusty road leading to further narrow lane. The car was jerking due to the uneven road.

  
The cars halted to a slope and from there on there’s a giant steep where barely a person can walk down one at a time. If he looked past the trees and bushes that outgrown the place, he could see a tiny light coming from a house- only house in that area.

  
Even doesn’t say anything. Instead he walks down and he follows. He wonders whether he was finally meeting his parents.  
But all the questions are vanished when he sees a boy of barely eight years old running out to greet him. Even hoist him up as high as he could and circles him around. With a loud smack he kisses his chin and places him down handing him the chocolates that he had stashed in his pocket.

  
The smile that radiates from Even hurts his eyes. He has never seen him so carefree. As if all those bitterness was in yester years. The man in front of him is unrecognisable as he is being dragged down to the house by the little kid who is equally happy to see him.

  
Is it jealousy brewing within him?

  
Again he his left stupendous when he sees the woman standing behind the doors- her eyes with adoration. Respect and love is what reflecting in those gorgeous brown eyes and again that feel arises overwhelming.

  
Mom, look who is here? The boy shouts.

  
“Julian, I can see” the woman replies trying to neat down her dress and open the door. The house is worn down with one of its end already demolished. He shudders when the cold wind breezes and hugs himself to protect from the cold.

  
“Come inside” she ushers in and smiles. The room inside is in no better condition. Everything is a mess and he even spots a bed on the hall. How do they really survive? He wonders.

  
But the woman is still smiling and waiting.  
In the end it’s Even who breaks the silence- “here” he says and gently handles her a bag and an envelope.

  
“You don’t have to buy me and my children new clothes Even, where am I going? And this much money is unnecessary.

  
“I see that the room has finally fallen. Reconstruct it. He says and then takes a cigar and holds in his mouth but doesn’t light it.

  
He sees tears in the woman’s eyes and she quickly wipes it away. He learns her name is Sonja and she was the servant’s daughter who used to stay with him many years back. Magnus has a younger sister too- Eva and she is barely four comes around hopping on a make shift vehicle made by her brother.  
Somewhere in between the conversation, he hears Sonja asking Even who Isak is.

  
“Just a friend” he answers and right then he realises this wasn’t his place to be. He was an unwanted guest in this chanced encounter. He doesn’t show it, he is grateful that Even didn’t push him out when he came back from airport unannounced but he also understands that this visit clearly changes what he know until now.

  
It is only after much later when they are driving back and some song plays lazily in the radio does he muster the courage to speak –

  
“You love her” it’s not a question. It’s a statement because here was a man who even after knowing that the woman had a family still reaches out to help. People can be selfless. But he knows better when he sees a spark in the eyes that he rarely sees in Even. A rare kind of tenderness that doesn’t shine always on that visage. No one is immune to love he muses.

  
Even neither answers nor rejects. He just looks in front of the road and drives.

  
“If you loved her, why didn’t you marry her?”

  
It is then he sees Even. He sees him. Pain lurched in his face, a turmoil that still boils in his mind now finally resurfacing- “ _I am Bipolar”._  
Xxxxxxxxxxx

  
This time when Isak drinks he is taken back to the memory of their first proper encounter- back to the rainy day of 2015 where he half expects himself to run away again and Even sits ready to drop the other shoe.  
They stare intently at each other and he feels himself weathering away.

  
“So drugs. Why all of a sudden? Curiosity?” Even asks lighting another cigarette.

  
“There’s a gutta in the neighbourhood who deals with this. And he said he would give us it in 10% discount. So I thought why not?” he rambles scratching his head.

  
“Did your parents find out now?” Even asks clearly disinterested.

  
“No”

  
“Then why you think you fucked it up?” Even presses.

  
“I owe them money”.

  
There is silence again and he could almost hear the wheel turning in the older man’s mind. He thinks that this is the moment he is being thrown out but again is bemused when he hears the question –“How much?”

  
“5000” he says barely raising his voice.

  
“Uhm… I will pay you. But only if u come clean my house, help to cook my food and study for three hours and you have to attend the sessions. Also don’t go seeking trouble brat. Stand on your own feet before seeking pleasure.”

  
“Right… why don’t you ask my soul for bargain?”

  
“You think this is a bargain? You are wrong. I am not negotiating anything. If you want the money. Do this. Otherwise my door is open. Help yourself out.”

  
Isak shudders. He knows what Even says is right. But the air of defiance still course through his body. But he needs this money.

  
“Yes. I will take the money. See youtomorrow.” He says and before he walks away he hears the voice –“if you want a drag ask me, not to some bastards”.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

  
October, 2021

  
the neon colour lights seems to overthrow him from balance. An aura of sweat, alcohol and weed permeates the air. But he is stuck in here. Stuck in middle of hundreds of youth that have already seemed to lag due to the booze and what nots. Somewhere he could hear the hard core guitar sounds playing out- some local band as a promotion is here to spice the already enthralled people.

  
It’s the third year in his engineering college in Mumbai. It’s after the incident of his weed and alcohol intake does he transfer to some college in Mumbai so that his sister can keep an eye on him. He misses his city- Grunerløkka and the calmness that comes with it but he doesn’t complain. Because as much as he love the city he knows the news spreads like a wildfire and he isn’t sure to face it yet.  
That’s why he is starting it off as in a clean slate but of course with one condition- to continue his sessions with Even. He doesn’t want anyone else to continue his therapy. Honestly there is no need of it anymore. But a relapse of an alcoholic is far greater than any other disease that includes cancer. His sister says and he could only rolls his eyes.

  
So he visits his city every once in a month and hangs around Even’s house occasionally smoking a joint and cleaning up the room. His house no longer looked like it was a rundown rubbles. Instead now it looks like a home. Clearly more welcoming that when he visited first.  
He takes a deep breath and count to ten. Talk to an alcoholic. You would understand that they could actually pick out the type you drink with just a whiff. It’s amazing but it also puts you in drab state because you need to stop picking up the scent. You need to keep repeating a mantra that – “I don’t drink anymore”.  
So it hardly bothers him when a girl sits near to him where he is hiding. Riya or Ritu that’s her name. He remembers her from his computer classes but he realises that he doesn’t have to put much effort. The girl is clearly intoxicated. He wonders vaguely whether she is drugged. So he doesn’t turn around until he feels a hand crawling to his legs. He stares down and sees her hand is dangerously close to the inside of his thighs.

  
With a sharp intake he looks up and there she is- eyes dazed and licking her lips as if she is waiting for him to look back- “don’t you like music bands?” she asks.

  
He just shrugs which just seems to spar her more into action and he grits his teeth not to comeback with some snarky comment.

  
She continues in a slurred voice –“me neither, do you want to get out?”

  
Again he can’t help but think about the thousands of movies that he has watched before this which had the same quotes. Then again he knows that’s an intoxicated mind can’t even form words on his own. So he feels a little proud on the girl who sits opposite.

  
But everything just crumbles as she latches onto his lip tugging on his shirt. There’s no tenderness. No love in the kiss. Just pure hunger and passion as she bites his teeth and pulls on his hair. He finds himself helpless but to go along with it. It never stops. Not even when he want to gasp for air. She seems to be in vigour to mark him yet tomorrow she won’t remember any of it.

  
And all the thoughts leaves him as she pushes him to the nearby bathroom and goes down on him.

  
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

  
He doesn’t know when he wakes up. How he flees but then he finds himself in the flight back to his city. He feels like he is running on a never ending marathon. Tears violently running down through his cheeks, endless sobs breaking in his chest.

  
When Even opens the door there is clearly shock etched in his face but he simply gathers Isak in his arms and ushers him in.

  
The tears never stop and all through the while the older man just pats him gathering him in a tight embrace. He very well knows the hickeys that now looks like an angry red blots will turn to pale purple bruise and there’s nothing he can do about it. But Even never asks and both of them sleeps in tight embrace for the rest of the night.

  
Xxxxxxxxxxx  
He welcomes the morning with the all too familiar smell of coffee being brewed loves this smell. It almost reminds him of being in his own house. He walks slowly into the kitchen and sees the books have piled up again. The floor is again littered with books but also finds a new addition near the TV stand. A small kitten- a black kitty coiled into sleep, he gently goes over there and pats his head earning a soft purr. He smiles softly and decides to face the inevitable.

  
And sure enough there is Even – in his boxers and a plain white t-shirt brewing the tea with a spoon. He sees another cup filled with tea and decides it’s for him. He simply takes it and drinks. All through while the older man continues to drink tea. Neither of them trying to speak up.

  
“Wanna smoke?” Even asks.

  
That’s how they find themselves back in the window sill sitting opposite to each other and there’s freedom in almost this confinement which he hasn’t experienced even in the city of Mumbai- here he could confide his deepest secrets and it wouldn’t leave the walls. That makes him happy. Gives him comfort like no other drug.  
May be that’s the reason that he narrates the incident and by the end of it he finds himself blush and look down abashedly. But he knows Even, no matter whatever story he unfolds to him, he never laughs. There’s that trust he has.

  
“So did it remind you of something in from past?” Even asks crushing the joint that seems to be burning ashes now.

  
This time the reply is instant –“No”.  
He isn’t ready for it yet.

  
When the evening comes, he decides to visit his mom. After all his sister might have informed his mom about his sudden arrival.

  
He makes a visit and lies that he just reached now and he wants to have the session in that night itself. His parents nods in encouragement seeing his son willingly going for session. He misses their smile. So he basks it in as much as he could.

  
When he returns to Even’s house, he sees the door ajar and there is a new pair of shoes that he hasn’t seen before lying in the front and he knows for a fact that Even never takes session in the evening.

  
He doesn’t knock or try to find out who is it inside. He leaves and approaches the bar. That night he drinks until he finds it hard to stand. Somewhere he remembers the word “relapse of an alcoholic is far greater than any other disease”. How true indeed.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

  
The next time he sees Even is on the eve of Christmas and all through the time neither of them tries to contact. After all they are just a doctor and patient. And he has been known to be stable for a year now. Even when there was a short relapse he bounced back again.

  
He was trying his best to distract everything from falling back to his old life. His marks were admirable. He was there in the youth committee. He was heading his project groups. Life was good, so it is really comes as a surprise when he gets a call from Even.

  
“Hello?” Isak seems unassured.

  
“Uhm… yeah how are you? It seems that you missed the sessions” Even speaks and coughs. Isak mentally notes that the older man had again increased the intake of cigars and he had to reprimands it.  
“Ah good, just busy with college last year, projects and all”.

  
There’s no reply from the other side. And just like any other times their call is shortened with Even’s crisp voice “just wanted to know that”. And he is confused.  
Only later he realises what the conversation mean and remembers vaguely from their visit together once “I am an Bipolar and I have been away from my parents for so long that I don’t know whether they remember that I exist”. And it’s Christmas. All through the years he is the only constant person in Even’s life, just like ‘he’ in his life. Both of them together.

There is no second thought as he books a flight to Grunerløkka.

  
I am coming home. He thinks and smiles to himself.

  
When he comes to Even. He sees the older man looks even more aged. His stubbles now a full grown beard and eyes a little sunken. “Where you watching horror movies?” he jokes when he sees him.

  
“Nah. Porn” Even retorts.

  
And they laugh, there is nothing anymore that could stop them. This Christmas eve nobody is left alone. They have one another.

Xxxxxxxxxxx  
Isak finds the courage to open up only after months later, its neither Christmas nor New Year. It’s somewhere in the mid of 2022 and his college has been closed. He is on the hunt for jobs and so far there is few interviews that seems to be promising. He knows he could ask his dad for help. After all he is business man. But somehow it’s a written deal. He no longer shares his trouble with his family unless it’s absolute necessary.

  
They are watching Romeo and Juliet in the TV, neither of them paying attention to it. When he speaks all of a sudden –“I was molested” he says. He doesn’t know why he says it but he simply can’t hold it any longer and that’s how they settle back in the bedroom, a beer in his hand and he narrates the incident. Reminder of it that no amount of alcohol could erase it from the memory.

  
It’s like a movie that he remembers it. Every single moment he waits for the impending disaster. The dreams that seems to leave him restless. Each moment intervening with the path he has chosen. Closed, selfish, arrogant- the start of everything and its picture perfect in his brain.

  
_Through the slits of thick curtains he sees his cousin sister-Noora waving and flashing her smile to the cameras. His sister in the bridal wear was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. He felt himself smiling at the sight but it is short lived as he hears footsteps behind him._

  
_He turns abruptly and there he is – that ugly old man standing behind him flashing his teeth. Before even he could respond the man pushes him to the dark corners._

  
_“My, my boy you sure have grown up. How come I have never seen you?”_

  
_“What do you mean?” he asks still not grasping the meaning._

  
_“Do you want me to show you?” he asks flashing his dirty teeth and pressing his whole body into him._

  
_He feels like suffocating .Unlike how his own sister hugs him, this feels wrong .There is nothing to hold on. No love, laughs. His grasp is almost too much to bear and the way he moves make him want to puke._

  
_So he cries and tries to call for help but find that he can only choke. Whimpering, he wails “let me go” but hears another malicious laugh._

  
_It’s only later when the wedding ceremony ends and people starts to leave the hall does his parents ask for him._

  
_They finds him under a table hiding among the used bouquets and flowers, beads of perspiration rolling down through his torso. His parents pushes him out by mumbling something like ‘troubling brat’._

  
_And even though his legs shakes, he moves forward and nobody asks his sudden silence or shivering. Nobody bothers._

  
“For a long time, I used to have night mares until I started taking alcohol, that was the first night I slept without any trouble in sleep and the cycle only continued. Everything resurfaced after the night in college and that’s why I wanted to run away.”

  
“Why didn’t you tell me then?”

  
“Because I don’t think guys usually complain for petty things like that, no body will believe me”.

  
“Isak, man or woman- you are a person. Rape or molested doesn’t apply only to a girl. It happens to anyone who is touched without the consent, who is invaded from the personal space. I am sorry that nobody was there to help you, I am sorry that people were ignorant. That doesn’t make you weak or make it less traumatic. I know it’s not easy to forget but you have started to heal yourself by opening up, I will help you out. You are not alone”. Even says holding his hand.

  
And he cries, he cries as if there is no tomorrow. He cries for all the night he had to clutch to himself trying to hold himself from breaking to pieces in front of others. He cries for his ten year old self shaken from fear and pain clutching himself to stay away from the demons at night. And all through while he finds Even once again holding him. Soothing him with words of comfort and encouragement.

  
He sleeps peacefully pried away from the demons. He has finally won a battle.

  
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

  
Later in the night as Even serves him food, he gets up. It’s his last night in Even’s house. Tomorrow he is leaving to his house and they are going to his native place.

  
the TV is still on and he could hear some songs being played faintly. But neither of them is keen to hear it.

  
“How’s your job search going?”

  
“I honestly have no idea”. It was true though he knew that there were some job interviews lining ahead they needed someone with good academic careers, not someone who failed in first year and supplies and shifted to Mumbai on the middle of the college.

  
“Uhm… let me see … I may be able to help you” Even answers chewing the food effortlessly.

 

“I thought…you were a doctor?”

  
“So?” Even glares unimpressed and Isak chuckles at the rage. He is too accustomed to the mood of the older man to know that within five minutes he will be reverted back to the usual ‘don’t care’ attitude and they can together pretend that nothing could faze them in this world.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

  
True to his word Even helps him to get to a job and he finds himself once again finding his way until one day everything shatters.

  
November 15 Th 2018,

  
He swings his head in sideways cursing the horrible headache that keeps coming back for no reason. His life is good. He has a stable job and he has his own apartment. Though it’s small it’s adequate for him to live. It also helps him to focus on himself. During the short time, he decides to hone his skill in writing. Honestly it starts with Even one day suggesting him to write his thoughts.

  
“As in diary?”

  
“It can be a diary entry, it can be a story, an article anything that helps you to pinpoint your emotions”.

  
And he of course finds himself writing story, thus helps him to remain anonymous yet express the emotions tangled in his mind. And he considers it seriously when one of his friend read it without it permission.

  
He obviously gets angry for reading his personal adventures but his friend assures him that its worth to read and asks him to improve his writing skill. This helps him to focus and he is happy.

  
And it’s been so long that he met with Even, though he meets with him time to time, there is no longer time for them to spare more than an hour as he reaches his city only for weekends and it is always packed with schedules.

  
It’s one such weekend but Isak decides to keep away all of his plan and lies to his Mom that he is not coming over for weekend. He wants to spend time with Even. He misses his dry wits and their occasional smokes. He misses the familiarity of that closed apartment.  
It’s with these thoughts that he climbs the stairs to Even’s apartment. He even surmises the not so surprised expression of Even when he sees him. The thoughts makes him laugh and that’s when he looks down to see a familiar pair of sandals lying haphazardly in the hall way.  
These shoes… he recognises. He have seen this many times during his time. And he doesn’t want to enter this apartment. He doesn’t want to ruin it. Oh God please don’t be.

  
And he again wonders why the world is cruel, why not even once he can win in his life?

  
There he sits… his boss sipping a coffee wearing a shorts and Even’s t-shirt. He recognises it because he had bought it for him during pride parade. He doesn’t want to deal with it

.  
“Get out” he says in a low tone. When his boss looks up, he is met with shock and fear. His colour drains but remain seated.

  
“GET OUT” he yells and that’s when Even comes out. He is shocked and he could even sense an apprehension creeping in him “how- why are you here?”

  
“I am not talking until the bastard leaves…get out before I call up your family”.

  
“You wouldn’t!” the guy stutters fear spreading in his fine.

  
“Try me…” he says and tries to pick up the phone and ready to deal and all soon he sees him walking out.

  
“What ARE you doing?” he asks with disgust.

  
“What are you doing?!” Even asks horrified.  
“I am quitting the job!”

  
“You won’t dare to!” Even seems to be angry too.

  
“I won’t what? Quit the job you gave for me by pimping yourself? I have self-respect unlike you. So keep it with you, even if I beg on the streets I won’t take up that job and I would never set my foot in here ever again” he shouts and leaves Even not even looking back.

  
True to his words Isak never returns. It’s on the autumn of 2024, does Even hears the news of him. And it’s from his parents who seems to be proud of his son’s accomplishment for once and with a smile he receives the card- with golden printed letters on the leaflet- “Isak weds Emma”.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

  
Even never attends. There is no need of the past haunting when the boy was stepping to a new life. Neither they call nor try to meet. The world still rotates and days still passes.

  
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

  
Isak would like to the call the period from the early beginning of 2024 as lucid dreams. Because he feels like he is adrift between reality and day dream.

  
He doesn’t even remember how he got married. He remembers that the weekend after the encounter with Even when he reaches his home, he is met with his entire family. Even his sister and his family has flown dawn to meet up with him. When he questions it, his sister smirks.

  
It’s only on the next day Lea says the reason –Emma, his ex girlfriend was back in town. He wanted to oppose as he already knows he is gay but he also knew that being with Emma helped him to settled down. He honestly don’t remember meeting Emma but all he knows that when she goes back to London, she promises to visit him and before he knows she is back in Oslo and they spent nights together.  
Somewhere in between he forgets Even. It’s not intentional. Or maybe it is. But he wants this start. He realises rather grimly. Somewhere he is not beat down about everything. Somewhere he doesn’t have to carry the insecurities that he still holds.  
Its only when Mom brings up the topic does he remember.

  
“Shouldn’t we call your doctor?” Mom asks.

  
And he can’t breathe. He wishes he could tell her no but that would rise suspicion. So he glumly nods a yes.

  
He doesn’t ask how he is or whether he was invited when his parents return. It’s a chapter that has to be closed.

  
In the eve of marriage, he still holds that belief that he doesn’t want to see him. Yet when the drums beat and marriage hymns starts, he looks frantically in the hall- to see something, anything that resemble Even. But he isn’t there. He knows he isn’t and he takes a deep breath and smiles to the horde of people coming their way to greet.

  
Definitely a new beginning.

  
Emma- she is everything a person could ask for. She is kind, caring and witty. She is her mom’s favourite and soon wins the heart of even his dad who sometimes seems to be stern that he has to.  
Every day he is woken up with a smile and coffee. Every day he could hear Justin Bieber chanting in the house. He is soon taking care of the households and sometimes he miss the familiar scent of coffee and the window sill, then he looks at his wife sleeping calmly clutching on him as if she is a lost child.

  
He loves her. He truly does. Except sometimes it doesn’t seem enough. But he doesn’t complain.

Life had been unkind to him so far and now that he is met with a precious gift, he is not going to wallow in his self-pity.

  
That’s what he think until he sees Even in a super market.  
Xxxxxxxxxxx

  
March 15, 2026

  
He had come over to Grunerløkka to spend the vacation with his family and they had gone out to buy some necessary items for household when he sees him.

  
Even looks ragged. As if he had not been taking care of himself. He looks so lost in that place as if he isn’t sure what to buy. His hair have been grown past the shoulders and looks like he lost weight. It pains him to see Even so worn out. Even more painful when he finds his hand shivering as he had once made Even promise not to smoke anymore. Now it’s a ghost haunting the poor man.

  
He know that he should walk away but he couldn’t. Instead he approaches him and as if sensing his presence Even turns back.

  
Again there’s nothing but silence that meets him and he has so many questions he want to ask: _how are you? Are you eating? Why haven’t you cut your hair?_

  
But nothing goes past his thought and he seems to be numb until he finds a tiny hand from behind shaking him out of the reverie. His wife –Emma. She smiles at Even and he smiles back. And with a quick nod at him he rushes past.

  
If he knew that it was only after three years that he will meet him, he would have asked him how he was but instead fate has a different plan for him.

  
He drinks one day to forget Even and slowly he realises that he is ebbing away. A free fall, with no one to catch. How ironic that one who taught him to forego the habit brings it back.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

  
16 Th January, 2029

  
It’s a day that has no significance that embarks another beginning. He uses the spare key that Even gave to open the apartment and sure enough it opens. He is scared to find how Even will be. He is scared whether Even is still in the apartment.

  
But as he steps into the apartment, he is hit with memories. A thousand of memories that his alcoholic mind remembers and everything, everything is about Even. There are so many things he wants to remember, to repent- for his wife who had left him because she couldn’t see him drinking away.

  
His parents tears, his sisters sympathy- so much to try to pacify yet nothing seems significant now. He could make the tiny silhouette sitting near the window sill and he has considerably lost weight. But once again he is met with de-ja-vu, the tiny room, Even sitting on the window sill, a single coffeer. And once again he is moving forward to sit beside him, now not a courage but his right place and he smiles.

  
Even looks at him and then looks out.

“Why are you here?” he asks.

  
“Why wouldn’t I be?”

  
Even raises his face to study him and there are so many questions that lurks within it but Isak finds it important to assure him one thing-  
“I am here and I am not going anywhere”.

  
Somewhere from the hall he could hear the T.V, down the road he could hear some festivals going on. Syrian attacks, accidents, death and dismal- the world is full of mishaps and despair.

Yet in between there they are, life once again giving them a chance that they probably don’t deserve but very much needed.

They have their asylum in this dingy apartment.

  
The world can wait.

 

 

  
The end

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to add some scenes of their meeting as parts if the readers are interested! Also sorry for the typing errors as I had to upload from my phone! 
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated! And would help me keep motivated


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